A Swollen Eye and Tonight’s Dinner

So here’s the conversation:

Dan:    I hurt my eye last night.

Me:     What?  What happened?  [Speaks with the heightened alarm of a caring wife]

Dan:   This happened.  Husband points at eye, which is bruised and nearly swollen closed]

Me:     Holy Good Grief!  What did you do?

Dan:   It was a dream.  I had this really wild dream that someone was about to shoot me.  I jumped to get away and the nightstand was in the way.  I hit my eye.  Pretty hard, I guess.

Me:    Okay!?!?  Do you want some ice?  Maybe you should go to Urgent Care and have an X-Ray.  You could have a subdural hemathingywacky and not even know it.  I watch House and Miami Medical, you know.  You could DIE and not even know it!!!  We should totally go to Urgent Care.  Or maybe the hospital.  Yes!  We should go to the hospital!  [wife’s voice elevates in pitch]

Dan:   Naw.  I’m good.  [Husband shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders]

Me:     But … but … you’re all swollen and purple.  At least, you need ice.  Here, I’ll make you an ice pack.  [Wife turns toward freezer door]

Dan:   I’m good.  Really.  It doesn’t hurt.  [Husband speaks in growly husbandy voice]

Me:     Yeah, well, don’t tell me when you keel over dead from a brain clotty thingywacky.  [Wife walks away, shaking head]

So, that’s how it went.  My dear Dan, who four months ago broke his arm falling off a ladder, who last week received bunches of stitches in his back after the doc took out a huge cyst … and NOW! … who gets a black eye from a dream.  A DREAM!!!  Really?  A dream?

Oh, there are so many inappropriate words that I’d like to use to express my displeasure.  But I work hard to keep this a kid-friendly site.  Nevertheless, bad words …. REALLY BAD WORDS … are on the verge of being typed.  Bad dream.  Bad table.  Bad!  Bad!!!

I’ve ordered a bed rail for Dan’s side of the bed.

He is not amused.

To make it up to him, I’m now creating lovely dinners with lovely, wifely conversation (which gets back at him for not letting me take him to Urgent Care) and lovely, soft mood lighting (so I don’t notice his still-swollen eye).  I serve him with a towel across my arm … like a waiter.

I talk while I’m serving:

Good evening.  May I introduce you to tonight’s Menu, Sir?:

Wild Pacific Mahi Mahi, tender-grilled with lemon and dill aeoli, topped with a pungent Mango Peach Salsa

Basmati rice pilaf, infused with fresh picked garden parsley

Coupled with chili-spiced whole pinto beans

Everything is fresh … garden fresh.

He liked it.

I swear — next time we are going to Urgent Care and then eating at Taco Bell.